


Dear Tony,

by sirona



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Epistolary, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Invasion of Privacy, M/M, Meddling Friends, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Post-CACW, Stream of Consciousness, Wakanda Forever!, ode to Princess Shuri and the Black Panther crew, taking liberties with grammar, taking liberties with style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 07:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: Once the dust after what no one is referring to as "The Break-up" has settled, Steve starts writing and doesn't seem to know how to stop.





	Dear Tony,

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post-Captain America: Civil War and Black Panther, and is my attempt at fixing 'the divorce' that is making me _very unhappy_. 
> 
> **Please note:** I have purposefully not deep-edited this fic, because I wanted the language and typography/style choices to reflect the characters' inner state, so if you are a grammarian, please proceed with caution. There will be a lot of stuff in this fic that would make linguistically sensitive readers blanch and wince repeatedly. You have been warned!
> 
> In case it is unclear from the style: Steve's sections are written long-hand on paper, while Tony's are typed into a draft email and automatically saved when he exits it in a fit of pique.
> 
> Enormous thanks to my squee squad - CinnamonAnna has been irreplaceable as always, SomebodyOwens was the perfect sounding board, and various other people listened to me whine about it on twitter and poked at the ache until this story came out. 
> 
> **Warnings** for slightly unstable mental health, mention of suicidal thoughts, depression, anxiety. Basically all the stuff Steve (and/or Tony) should be in therapy for years to deal with.

**ONE**

****

****

**STEVE**

 

~~Dear Tony,~~

~~Dear Mr. Sta~~

Dear Tony,

~~I’m sorry~~

~~I wanted to say how sorry I was~~

~~Please forg~~

I’m

 

\---

Dear Tony,

How are you? I hope you’re well, because I am ROTTEN. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, everything is TERRIBLE

 

\---

Dear Tony,

By this point I have accepted the fact that I am never sending you these. What I haven’t seem to have accepted is to stop writing them at all. They crowd in my head, clamour over each other, a cat’s cradle of thoughts and things I want to say to you. If I try to stop, the ache in my chest makes me feel like I’m losing a lung. So writing it is, even if no one will ever see these but me.

I just want to tell you that I’m sorry. Why is that so hard to put into words? I guess because I’m not sorry that I didn’t let you kill Bucky. Don’t you understand that killing him means killing me? Again? I didn’t manage to do a good enough job back in ’45, but if it happened again, well, I know a lot more about myself now. I’d know what to do.

See, this is the problem. I AM sorry, but when I try to tell you, I- Words are hard. 

I am sorry, desperately, that I hurt you. Don’t you know I love you, Tony? Don’t you understand-

I never meant, never wanted to cause you pain, or to make you feel like you’re not worth it, because you are, Tony, you’re worth so much - everything, maybe-

But you can be SO stubborn sometimes. Why couldn’t you listen to me? Why couldn’t you trust me? Don’t you understand what government oversight stands for? I can’t, I’m done taking orders that I can’t condone. I have been a weapon to be pointed at the “enemy” and let loose. So has Bucky, and look how that ended. If only you could see how much he tortures himself over what he’s done, what he was made to do. Do you think he WANTED to kill your parents?? Do you think ANYONE would WANT that? If you could talk to him, if you could hear his side, Christ, Tony, you two would get on so well.

But I can understand why that won’t happen, and while yes, it kills me inside, my God it hurts, but I get it. He killed your family, even if he didn’t mean to. And I grieve with you, Tony. I’m desperately sorry it happened to you. I want to hold you and support you and help you in whatever way I can, but I can also understand why you don’t want anything from me right now, though, again, it’s killing me. I wonder if I can’t sleep because every time I close my eyes, I hear you say, “So was I,” and it jerks me awake like a nightmare.

You will always be my friend, Tony. I will always respect you more than anyone I’ve met in this time. Despite everything, despite your mistakes, you are a good man and you try so hard, always give your best, 120%. I think I’ll always love you, even if it hurts.

 

\---

Monday

Dear Tony,

Well, it’s the start of a new week here in Paradise on Earth. My God, more than anything, more even than your forgiveness, I wish you could see what I’m seeing. I can’t appreciate a tenth of what goes on around me every single day, not like I know you would. The technology, Tony, the way it so seamlessly weaves into and through people’s lives. I think you’d love it. You’d be, what’s the word, geeking out? At everyone and everything. And just you wait until you meet Princess Shuri.

Sometimes I sit in her laboratory and let myself daydream. I miss sitting in your workshop, listening to you mumble to yourself and talk to the bots and Jarvis. I miss Dummy and how ridiculously kind he is, even for a supposedly mindless robot. I don’t think he is mindless at all. Did you know that the word ‘robot’ was invented by a Czech science fiction author? It meant ‘servant’ originally, but I don’t know that you ever saw what you made as your servant, not even – no, especially not Jarvis. I know you loved him and you miss him, and so do I, but not like you do. How could I? I only knew him a little, as a friendly voice. You knew him as your friend, your child, someone you – who was important to you.

But sometimes I sit in Shuri’s lab and watch her work, and I daydream about you walking through the door. You’d take off your sunglasses with that snappy move, and you’d look around, no doubt taking in the whole place in a split second. And then you’d say something like, “Did I die? Is this Heaven? Hey, kid, you run this joint? Tell me EVERYTHING. What is that?” and you’d be off. Shuri would probably insult you and try to kick you out, but like everyone else, she’ll fall under your charm soon enough. I imagine sitting quietly and watching you talk, understanding maybe one word in twenty. I imagine slipping out to ask Oyelia – she is the Royal chef, and she is magical \- for some food for you two, and coffee by the gallon. Shuri doesn’t like it, she has this energy boosting juice she designed percolating in a vat at the other end of the lab, delivered to her station by means of some underground propulsion system that I don’t understand, but I bet you would.

Would she design a coffee machine for you? I think it more than likely. I think she’ll like you despite herself, because you will never coddle her or talk down to her, once you see she’s on your level. Heck, she might be faster on the uptake than you, Tony. That thought makes me smile. It also makes me have to leave the lab, because I know it probably would never happen, what I want so badly. They’d let you come if you asked. But would you ask, knowing I was here? Would you cut off your nose to spite your face? Did I mention how stubborn you are? You probably would, and it would be a loss to all of us.

If I knew you would come, I would leave. I’m not a prisoner here, and I think T’Challa trusts my word that I’ll never tell a soul about this place. Though from the rumbles I’m hearing, I think Wakanda won’t remain a secret for long.

 

\---

Thursday

Dear Tony,

Bucky woke up today. I know Shuri has been working hard on his therapy, and I knew enough not to hope for a miracle. But she has wrought one nonetheless. She found the worm twisting deep inside his mind and rewired it. When I ask her how, she says she ‘hacked’ it. I didn’t know that was possible with the human brain, but I have learned never to doubt what Shuri can do. That woman is only 16 years old, and she is already – yes, I’m going there – smarter than you. I can see the face you’d make if you heard me say that, and it makes me chuckle. I know, I know, but hey, if it’s true…

Anyway. Bucky woke up today. She brought him out of the cryosleep and I helped move him to a medibed (which is some kind of bed wired with sensors and actually able to disperse drugs directly to the patient! It’s AMAZING.) He was so cold. So, so cold to the touch, and for a second, I was up in the mountains and watching him fall over and over again, and I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t drop him. I made sure he was lying comfortably, and then Shuri kicked me out because she said the next part would take a while and she didn’t need a ‘white boy’ hovering and distracting her. She said I wasn’t ‘broken’ anyway, so there was no need to be in the lab. I’m not so sure about that. I think she might be wrong, this time. I feel broken. In my head, in my chest. I am walking and talking, but I’m not whole.

The thing is, he woke up but turns out, I can’t see him. Everyone thinks it’s safest that we don’t interact. Shuri says it’ll take time. She wants to be sure before she lets me see him. Or him see me, more accurately. It’s just – he’s SO CLOSE. But maybe I wouldn’t be helping. Maybe I would be hurting him and I just, I can’t, that can’t happen.

I should go on another mission. It sucks running missions without you and the team, but honestly, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane at this point. I mean, I’m definitely not as bad as I was before Bucky. I don’t want everything to - go away. I don’t want to go away. But having Bucky back and at the same time not having him at all is – well, it’s killing me.

I shouldn’t even write this to you, even if you’ll never see it. You’ll think I’m betraying you. You’ll hate me.

Who am I kidding, you already hate me anyway.

 

\---

 

**TWO**

****

****

**TONY**

 

_Mailbox > Drafts_

 

Dear captain asshole, 

I just got one question for you. Why the fuck did you HAVE to be such a bastard?? Why couldn't you have given me a heads up, i just don't get it, i know, i KNOW you aren't a stuck-up granddad. I KNOW you. You aren’t cruel, whatever else you can be. I thought you, i thought we

I don't know what the fuck i was thinking. 

 

\---

Seriously though. I know he's your bff or whatever, but i thought we were friends man. How could you let this blindside me like that? If you'd just manned up and told me what you knew we wouldn't be in this mess to start with. I'm not a fucking asshole, jesus, i

He KILLED MY PARENTS, Steve. 

 

\---

No, ok, fine. I know HE didn't care about them either way. But he choked my Mom until she

 

\---

I hate you. I hate that i miss you. 

Pepper came by today. She and Romanov of all people have teamed up to keep tabs on me, or it feels that way sometimes. Rhodey's fine, by the way, thanks for asking. He'll be walking with some kind of support exostructure for the rest of his life, but he'll HAVE a life. Though i don't really like him right now because the fucker hid all the booze. Which is a SHITTY MOVE, RHODES. and Friday won't buy me anymore. I'm pissed at her so i shut her out of the correspondence modules. Who needs spellcheck right?She still has social media on lockdown though which tbh is fair enough bc i don't want to be splashed all over fucking facebook right now. 

This is ALL YOUR FAULT.

 

\---

Fucking HELL, when did Jarvis become such a stick in the mud?? I don't like this Jarvis. I want my Jarvis back. GODDAMN IT. was that when i lost my mind? When i thought it was a good idea to stick my J in the body of a homicidal robot? I think it was. That's why we needed oversight. So i'd have no choice but to NOT create homicidal robots. All those deaths, all those people lost, they're on ME, how don't you get that?? I thought you of all people would get that. I thought you'd be with me.

I thought wrong. In waltzes your long-dead buddy and you're OUT, you threw us ALL out for HIM like we were NOTHING. what, we're not worth fighting for? Tell me, is it only people from the war that you care about? Well GUESS WHAT THE WAR IS OVER YOU STUPID EXCUSE FOR A

 

\---

Hey you know what DUM-E just did, i laughed so hard and then i went to call you to come see this but you weren't fucking there were you

I should throw out that couch. All i see when i look at it is you, with one of your notepads and black smudges on your cheeks and forehead. What were you even drawing so intently? It's just mechanics.

 

\---

Attachment: washingtonpost.com/national/2016/06/08/winter-soldier-sergeant-barnes-exonerated-for-attack-on-un-hq/238faqgs94sweog8576

Figured you’d want to know. 

 

\---

**THREE**

****

****

**STEVE**

 

Dear Tony,

Ow. Ow ow ow. Turns out that training with the Dora Milaje > busting sandbags. Also turns out I have found a hard limit on instant healing – when most of my body is a bruise, they take longer to vanish. Go figure.

On the other hand… I do feel refreshingly empty-headed. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep, even.

After getting flattened, I had a shower scalding enough to take off a layer or skin. It was amazing. Then General Okoye graciously accompanied me to dinner. Do you know how wonderfully strange it is to walk around without spotting a single landmark of global capitalism? No McDonalds. No Starbucks. Burger King, Dunkin Donuts? Forget about it. All the food is ridiculously fresh, locally grown in the land or in some kind of adapted greenhouses. And there's so much of it! To a guy from pre-war Brooklyn, it's a little overwhelming. Not even the modern New York can compare with walking the edges of the city and seeing whole fields of vegetables, enough to feed the entire nation if needs be.

We had steaks cooked to perfection, a couscous dish that blew my mind, a pancake thing with ice cream for dessert. I know you're used to the finest restaurants around the world, but I think you'd love the taste, the simple yet satisfying nourishment the food here centers around.

Oh, and I need to tell you about General Okoye. She did not like me at first. I gather that Wakanda has remained rigorously separate from the rest of the world for generations. VERY few outsiders make it inside, let alone be allowed to live here. Not that I live here now or anything. But I have remained for days. Weeks. 

Things are changing, she told me when she found me sketching the lake on the other side of the city from the palace. There was a group of kids lurking somewhere behind me - they'd never seen a white man for real before, apparently. At first, I wondered if she was here to escort me back to the palace, which I hadn't left before. But she just told me to stop moping and come with her. (For the record - there was no moping! But I can see where she might get the notion - I think about you a lot, how it used to be, how I know I can't ever have that again.)

She introduced me to the other warriors in the Dora Milaje, and told them something in Wakandan - and now here I am, not moping but definitely regretting some of my choices as I gingerly shift in my seat.

Not up to much tonight. Think I'm going to go sit on the roof of the palace and sketch the sunset washing the city in fire. It's extraordinary. I don't think I'll ever get tired of this view.

 

\---

Dear Tony,

Today was a – not good day. I am more and more aware that I’m using these letters as some kind of diary of the things I can never say out loud, least of all here. These people have been nothing but humblingly gracious to me, and I can’t possibly repay their welcome by being so tired it hurts to blink, and the possibility of mustering a smile is far out of reach. I just – everything is too much. From the moment I woke up, I was stabbed with the knowledge that I am completely alone. Is that because I have isolated myself here? Did I do it consciously, knowing I’d hardly see a familiar face as long as I remain in Wakanda? I can’t tell. I don’t know what I was thinking, when I came here, beyond that it was a chance to save Bucky. I don’t really remember much of that first week. I think I talked and explained and set out our history through the past seven decades, but honestly, it’s all a blank. I felt empty. I still do.

There’s just no one. They’re – you’re – all gone.

 

\---

Dear Tony,

Today has been a decent enough day. King T’Challa came by, dragged me out to meet his friend M’Baku. From what I understand – and the way they are with each other, bickering all the time, wary but somewhat fond underneath the prodding – they haven’t been friendly that long. I know something huge went down while I was away on that mission with Natasha. I think it rocked the foundations of Wakanda. I haven’t asked. I’m not sure they’d tell me even if I did.

Anyway. M’Baku is this huge guy with arms like Thor’s and a back that’s maybe twice the size of mine. He’s an asshole, too, but in the way that you are, so I like it. Not that we’re going to be best pals or anything – I don’t think M’Baku has friends so much as people he doesn’t completely hate. Watching him with T’Challa is fun, though, in a spectator sport kinda way. One of the Wakandan tribes raises battle rhinoceros (Battle! Rhinoceros!) and we got to RIDE THEM. I don’t think I’ve had this much fun since that time you took me flying. Furtively, I let myself think about Bucky getting better so I can show them these guys, and it’s a good thought.

M’Baku and T’Challa nearly killed each other, but since they were smugly trying to one-up each other’s death-defying stunts after the fact, I don’t think they’re gonna hold a grudge.

 

\---

Dear Tony,

Today I got a call from Natasha. I’m not sure she’ll be allowed to come here, but it might be time for me to get out of T’Challa’s hair for a while. Not that he’s even hinted at it, but I feel strange, staying with him and not contributing anything. I have never enjoyed the idea of living on charity, but I didn’t want to leave Bucky. But Shuri said she is nowhere near ready for me to see him, and I can’t just live here, taking advantage. It’s time to go.

T’Challa said I won’t need to worry about being able to come back. There was a small smile on his face, which looked nice. Reassuring. I think I’ll actually miss him.

I’m leaving tomorrow, with the Lady Nakia. She is flying to the US on a mission of some kind and said she’d be happy for me to tag along.

I’m not going to call. I’m not sure you want to hear from me, and I’ve heard nothing from you. I know you got the phone I sent you. Your silence says enough.

Shuri wants to see me before I go. I wonder why. (I won’t let myself hope.)

 

\---

Dear Tony,

This might be the last letter I write in a while. I don’t want to leave this notebook in Wakanda, not when I have no idea when, or if, I’ll be coming back. I don’t want people to see it. But I don’t think I can write these letters with Natasha so close. She’ll know. I don’t know how, but she will. She always does. And I absolutely do NOT want to talk about it. They’re private. You’re private.

I find myself daydreaming like I did when I was a boy and I liked someone. Will you call? Will I see you? Will you forgive me and be my friend again? Even in my daydreams, I can’t hope for anything more. I should stop letting myself have them anyway. If wishes were horses, huh? But I can’t stop. Even when I try not to, I still see your face everywhere. It’ll be a thousand times worse when I make it States-side. At least in Wakanda, I knew I wouldn’t see you somewhere on the street. I could trust in that, day after day.

I can’t trust that this luck will hold when I come back home. But all I have ever wanted was to live in New York. I don’t know that I can make myself leave it, either. So if you see me… what was that song? Walk on by.

We’re about to land. I can see the shadows of skyscrapers through the windowed nose of the plane. The Lady Nakia is looking at me; she probably wants to know my plans. I have to go.

 

\---

**FOUR**

****

****

**TONY**

 

Dear Steve,

Well this is a turn for the books. I spent all that time being angry and absolutely refusing to even think about talking to you, and now here i am at this awful function having to make nice with a bunch of ass-licking dicks and all i can think of is that i need to get away. So i write to you, god help me. I think yr becoming some weird confessional. I wouldn’t ever say these things to actual real you but fictional you is my friend. HE never betrayed me. 

Oh fine. I can’t help it. Melodrama runs in the family. I’m half italian, you know. We like to hold grudges.

Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to pimp me out to these politicians and government sharks. I’m going fucking crazy here I’d give up my grudge forever if you just came to rescue me now

 

\---

Dear Steve, 

I’m sitting here watching the sun rise on Manhattan. I’m so tired my eyes feel sandpapered. I can’t remember the last time i slept. Frankly i thought i was over this bullshit when they took out the arc reactor. Didn’t think i’d need to worry about panic attacks anymore. And i’m not having one, not really. The nightmares stay, though. I can’t get Ultron’s red eyes out of my head. He was everything i had wanted, worked to achieve, but he came out so wrong. SO wrong. I don’t understand. Every night, i ask myself, what happened, Tony? Mister “i am the future”? You can take the financing out of the the weapons manufacturer but you can’t take the weapons out of his blood. What if i am only good for building destruction? Did you see that in me, were the echoes of me in him too grating? Is that why you left?

God i wish i could talk to you. And i could. Nothing is stopping me. Here’s the phone you gave me. Yours is the only number in it. It would be so easy to press dial. 

But i can’t help but consider that i’ll call you, and you’ll pick up, and you’ll say, “What do you want, Tony?” with that weary benevolence/irritation you master so well, and i’ll want to fucking shoot myself. I’d wish i’d never called, if that was what i’d hear over and over again until i’d convince myself that the lab is the only place i can be alive, be me. The bots are the only people who would be ok with my presence. The only people i won’t irritate, who won’t just tolerate me.

Maybe i should go back to building robots. It was the one other thing i’m good at. Only - no more AIs, ever. Friday is the last one. I deleted all the other assistants. don’ t say killed. I never ran them. I just wrote them and they stayed in code, but no more. Better that they never come online than to have another Ultron. 

I guess i should sleep. If only it was so easy to remain unconscious. I can’t stand being in my own head right now. I can’t stand being awake. 

 

\---

Dear Steve,

I thought i saw you in the street today. Was that you? Have you come back? i f you did, how come you haven’t called? Do you think i don’t want to talk to you?

I mean, you couldn’t know that i would./ i haven’t told you a thing. I haven’t called, i haven’t messaged. All i do is write these gutless emails i’m never going to send. 

 

\---

Another day, another awful gala. I think Ross gets a kick out of parading me like some wolf on a leash - see he won’t bite, he’s harmless, i took away all of his teeth.

Romanov is here. I wanna ask if she’s seen you, but i don’t know if i’m up for her blatant amusement at my misfortunes. So i pretend that i’m VERY BUSY AND IMPORTANT by working through the gala. Just two more minutes god i swear i’ll be good for the rest of the evening just give me two fucking minutes to be by myself.

My stupid eyes hurt again. I’ve started having trouble seeing. You think it’s time for an eye-check? I’d look quite distinguished in glasses, i think. For now, the sunglasses help a little with the glare. 

Thank god for hidden balconies. Sure it’s freezing out here, but that just means noone else will want to intrude on my place. 

I keep thinking i see you out of the corner of my eye. I’m pretty sure it isn’t you. The men i see never look back at me, just keep walking like nothing’s the matter. I even thought i saw you here tonight. But the man had a dark beard and longer dark hair. Of course it wasn’t you.

What does it say, though, that i keep seeing you everywhere? Hasn’t my body had enough of torture?

 

\---

Well now. This is interesting. Had a request for a meeting from one of the people at the gala last night. Normally i’d pass these requests on to Pepper for sorting, but this one says she’s from Wakanda. I mean. Their king wasn’t too pleased with me last time i saw him but. It’s worth it just to see if they have any more vibranium hidden around somewhere. Right? 

 

\---

YOU. YOU FUCKING - HOW COULD YOU. I SHOULD’VE KNOWN/ I WASN’T GOING CRAZY. 

YOU JUST FUCKING STOOD THERE YOU ASSHOLE LIKE WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT HUH

JESUS

i can’t do this. do you know what it cost me to just stand there and look at you and not react. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME. DO YOU EVEN CARE. 

of course you don’t. you don’t - you never ever cared about me, but i let myself think - i lied to myself because i wanted it so bad. but it was never about me, was it. you just needed a fucking guide or something to keep you current. an interpreter is all i was to you.

why do i keep doing this to myself, why, you never, you - you don’t think i can feel things, is that it? you think i’m a fucking robot? i just build them, you asshat, i have feelings, i’m not made of stone. this is last year all over again. have you learned nothing? does nothing penetrate that thick skull of yours? is barnes the only person you can feel empathy for???

god. god fucking damn it.

i. hate/ you. so. much. i wish they never found you. i wish you never came into my life because YOU FUCKING RUINED IT.

 

\---

**FIVE**

****

****

**STEVE**

 

Dear Tony,

Here we are, back at the start again. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. The way you looked at me when the Lady Nakia asked me to accompany her to your meeting. It - it hurt. I wish we could stop hurting each other, but it’s all we seem to be able to do. I never ever want to be the source of pain for you, ever. But all I seem to be to you is something you’d rather avoid. 

I’m sorry. If I knew, I wouldn’t have come. 

I shouldn’t have come at all, but I hoped--

It doesn’t matter.

 

\---

Dear Tony,

If you’re wondering why I’m writing this in a notepad, it’s because my notebook has gone missing, and now I can’t breathe

What if someone found it, what if 

Oh God 

What if they sell it to the papers. I’ve been through several wars by now and I haven’t been this scared even when I was blowing up Nazi weapon factories with the Nazis still in them. I--

I can’t, I just, what do I do? What do I fucking DO? 

Okay. okay. Calm down, soldier. Even if anyone found it, they won’t know what the letters were, or who I was writing them to. They’d think it was gibberish. It’s fine. It’s all fine. No one cares. I used to think that was awful once - that no one cared about me - but I realise now that it’s a blessing. No one cares, no one is going to make a big deal out of something they don’t know was mine specifically. And without my name and notoriety attached, those writings are meaningless. The only one they matter to is me. 

I still really, REALLY hate that it’s gone. There’s a ball of dread thick in my gut that doesn’t let me relax. I’m sitting here waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not. I’m really not. 

 

\---

Dear Tony,

I - I don’t quite know what to say to you. I woke up this morning to 364 emails from you. Or, from your email address. I don’t actually know if they were written by you. But… they seem to be, Tony. The things in them - they sound familiar. And I know your digital security is top of the line - heck, it is the line. I don’t know how I should react. I don’t know what to do, Tony. 

I mean, other than crying, but I have done that enough for one morning. 

I am completely and entirely at a loss. I feel paralyzed. Deer in the headlights. The car is coming and I can’t move.

I can’t move.

 

\---

Dear Tony,

~~I regret to inform you that I received~~

~~Did you send me these~~

~~Did you mean to email me~~

I received a large number of emails coming from your 

 

Dear Tony,

~~I’m sorry if I should not have seen these, but I~~

~~What do you want from me~~

 

\---

**SIX**

 

_Message sent: 06/08/2018 14:12_

Dear Tony, 

Perhaps there has been a security breach on your private server, because I received a large number of emails this morning addressed to me, which seem to have been sent by mistake. 

I read them before I realised the mistake, for which I apologise sincerely. I did not mean to violate your privacy, and I understand if you are angry. I am only letting you know so that you can check that nothing else has been “hacked”.

Yours,

Steve

 

\---

_Message sent: 06/08/2018 15:49_

Dear Steve,

Thank you for your email. I’ll look into it.

TS

 

\---

_Message sent: 06/09/2018 02:56_

Dear Steve,

My apologies for the inconvenience. My current digital assistant has grossly overstepped her boundaries. Please disregard whatever communication you received.

TS

 

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_Message sent: 06/09/2018 06:02_

Dear Tony,

Duly noted. If that is your wish, I will of course respect it.

Yours,

Steve

 

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_Message sent: 06/09/2018 07:18_

You know what, no. I don’t think I will be “disregarding” your “communication”. Tony, come on. Please. We’re grown-ups, right? I miss you. So much. It looks like you might miss me too. Can we not talk about this?

 

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_Message sent: 06/10/2018 01:01_

Tony, please. Please, don’t leave it like this. I care for you, more than I have admitted to anyone but myself. I want to try to make this right. I want to see if we can be friends again. I understand that there are things between us that will take a lot of talking and apologies to right. But I want to do the work. I want to try and see if we can fix this. 

Please. Talk to me. At least let me apologise. 

Yours always,

Steve

 

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_Message received: 06/11/2018 17:33_

_The email you are trying to send could not be delivered. This email address has been locked for incoming messages._

 

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_Message sent: 06/17/2018 13:14_

Dear Steve,

Have you maybe misplaced a notebook of writings? Because one has been delivered into my possession via courier about 30 mins ago. It’s in your handwriting so I have taken the liberty to assume it was in fact written by you. 

Regards,

TS

 

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_Message sent: 06/17/2018 13:18_

Dear Tony,

I would be much obliged to you if you would either destroy it or return it to me, c/o King T’Challa. I’d also appreciate it if you’d follow your own advice and disregard its contents. I understand my position and I would not wish to make you uncomfortable by forcing you to contend with emotions I cannot control. 

SR

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_Message sent: 06/18/2018 04:38_

Jesus, Steve. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go all Frozen on you. I just- you- I hate feeling vulnerable. You know that about me by now, I’m sure. And this - this breach of confidence - it made me feel excruciatingly vulnerable. There were things in those emails that I would never have admitted out loud, and to have you of all people read them - it was too much, in that moment, to process, or bear.

But I can see now that I wasn’t alone in feeling some things that made me uncomfortable. Reading your letters - it made me realise how unfair the whole situation was. Yes, you hurt me. But I hurt you too, I think. And you’re right. We are adults - or as much of one as I’ll ever admit to being. 

I’m not good at this. I care too much, and then people don’t like it and leave. So I told myself I’ll stop caring. I won’t let my feelings be used against me again. But that’s not how it works, is it? And by doing what I thought was best for me, I can see that it ended up hurting you even worse. I thought you didn’t care. But that wasn’t the problem, was it? You care, you care so much that it rips you apart, and I let it. I made sure it happened.

I know things are rarely black and white. I know you know that even better than I do. But we can meet in the middle. I’d like that. We’ve been good at understanding each other most of the time. It’s just in this particular case that we got muddled up by our egos and scary emotions and ended up profoundly misunderstanding one another, and then we were too stubborn to admit to it. I know you say I’m stubborn, but have you met you?

I’m sorry I ghosted you. Can we still talk? 

Yours, 

Tony

(PS: oh, and for the record? I like you too.)

 

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**SEVEN**

 

_Message sent: 07/04/2018 01:22_

Dear Shuri, Nakia, and Natasha,

You are ALL the WORST. EVER. This isn’t over!

Also, we’ll see you next week.

Love,

Steve & Tony

 


End file.
